by David Mamet
Pause.
ARTHUR: I know exactly what I’m doing, Grace.
GRACE: Do you, Arthur …?
ANGLE.
On ARTHUR, sitting on RONNIE’s trunk.
GRACE: (Cont’d. VO) He’s perfectly happy, at a good school, doing very well. No one need ever have known about Osbourne, if you hadn’t gone and shouted it out to the whole world. As it is, whatever happens now, he’ll go through the rest of his life as the boy who stole that postal order—
ANGLE. ON THE TWO OF THEM.
ARTHUR: He didn’t steal it, Grace.
GRACE: You talk about sacrificing everything for him; but when he’s grown-up he won’t thank you for it, Arthur—even though you’ve given your life to publish his innocence as you call it.
ARTHUR makes an impatient gesture. He gets up stiffly, and the two move into the upstairs landing.
46. INT. WINSLOW UPSTAIRS LANDING. NIGHT.
GRACE: (Cont’d.) Yes, Arthur—your life. You talk gaily about arthritis and a touch of gout, but you know as well as any of the doctors what’s the matter with you. (Pause) You’re destroying yourself, Arthur, and me and your family besides. For what, I’d like to know? For what, Arthur?
ARTHUR: (Quietly) For Justice, Grace.
GRACE: Are you sure it’s true? Are you sure it isn’t pride and self-importance?
ARTHUR: No, Grace I don’t think it is. I really don’t think it is—
GRACE: No. This time I’m not going to cry and say I’m sorry, and make it all up again. I can stand anything if there is a reason for it. But for no reason at all, it’s unfair to ask so much of me. It’s unfair—
ARTHUR puts an arm around her; RONNIE has, meanwhile, opened his eyes.
RONNIE: What’s the matter, Father?
ARTHUR: (Turning from the door) Your mother is a little upset.
RONNIE: (Drowsily) Why? Aren’t things going well?
ARTHUR: Oh, yes. (Murmuring) Very well. Very well indeed.
RONNIE contentedly closes his eyes again.
ARTHUR: (Cont’d. Gently) Go to sleep now, Ronnie.
He sees RONNIE is asleep again. ARTHUR closes RONNIE’s door. GRACE heads to her bedroom.
47. INT. WINSLOW DINING ROOM/HALLWAY. NIGHT.
ARTHUR coming downstairs. VIOLET, putting a tray of sandwiches on the dining room table. ARTHUR enters the dining room.
ARTHUR: (Cont’d.) Thank you, Violet.
There is the sound of the door knocker. VIOLET turns to ARTHUR, then goes to the door. It is a POSTMAN; he hands her a letter.
ANGLE. ON VIOLET, TAKING THE LETTER.
ANGLE. ON ARTHUR, WATCHING HER.
She turns and proceeds toward the backstairs.
ARTHUR: (Cont’d.) Oh, Violet …
ANGLE.
On VIOLET, holding the letter, at the staircase, about to descend to the kitchen; she has picked up her bag of knitting from the newel post. She turns.
VIOLET: Yes, sir.
ARTHUR walks up to her.
ARTHUR: How long have you been with us?
VIOLET: Twenty-four years come April, sir.
ARTHUR: As long as that?
VIOLET: Yes, sir. Miss Kate was that high when I first came in. (She indicates a small child.)—and Mr. Dickie hadn’t even been thought of—
ARTHUR: (Pause) What do you think of this case, Violet?
VIOLET: A fine old rumpus that is, and no mistake.
ARTHUR: It is, isn’t it? A fine old rumpus.
VIOLET: There was a bit in the Evening News. Did you read it, sir?
ARTHUR: No. What did it say?
VIOLET: Oh, about how it was a fuss about nothing and a shocking waste of the Government’s time, but how it was a good thing all the same because it could only happen in England—
ARTHUR: There seems to be a certain lack of logic in that argument—
VIOLET: Well, perhaps they put it a bit different, sir. Still, that’s what it said all right. And when you think it’s all because of our Master Ronnie—I have to laugh about it sometimes. I really do. Wasting the Government’s time at his age! I never did. Well, wonders will never cease.
ARTHUR: I know. Wonders will never cease.
VIOLET: Well—would that be all, sir?
ARTHUR: Yes, Violet. That’ll be all.
CATHERINE comes in.
CATHERINE: Good evening, Violet.
VIOLET: Good evening, miss.
She goes out.
48. INT. WINSLOW HALLWAY/STUDY. NIGHT.
ARTHUR stands in the hallway with the plate of sandwiches. He puts the letter down. CATHERINE moves to and fro from the study, back to her father and the dining room. She takes several sheets of paper from a file. She takes out a ledger, sits at the desk and writes. She takes out her notebook.
CATHERINE: (Addressing her father) Hello, Father.
ARTHUR: And how did it go this evening …?
CATHERINE: … I have to transcribe my notes …
She writes; she turns on the light at the piano.
ARTHUR: What’s happened? Is the debate over?
CATHERINE: As good as. The First Lord gave me an assurance that in the future there would be no inquiry at Osbourne or Dartmouth without informing the parents first. That seemed to satisfy most members—
ARTHUR: But what about our case? Is he going to allow us a fair trial?
CATHERINE: Apparently not.
ARTHUR: But that’s iniquitous. I thought he would be forced to—
CATHERINE: I thought so, too. The House evidently thought otherwise.
CATHERINE: (Referring to the plate of sandwiches) Are those for me?
ARTHUR: Yes.
CATHERINE passes into the backstairs hallway.
ARTHUR joins her and sits down at the window bench.
49. INT. WINSLOW BACKSTAIRS HALLWAY/HALLWAY. NIGHT.
ARTHUR: (Cont’d.) So, we’re back where we started.
CATHERINE: I’m sorry, Father?
ARTHUR: I said, We’re back where we started, then.
CATHERINE: It looks like it.
She takes VIOLET’s shawl from the banister and puts it on.
ARTHUR: But didn’t Sir Robert make any protest when the First Lord refused a trial?
CATHERINE: Oh, something far more spectacular. He’d had his feet on the Treasury table and his hat over his eyes during most of the First Lord’s speech—and he suddenly got up, glared at the First Lord, threw a bundle of notes on the floor, and stalked out of the house. Magnificent effect.
ARTHUR: Or perhaps a display of feeling.
CATHERINE: Sir Robert, Father dear, is not a man of feeling. I don’t think any emotion at all can stir that dead heart—And what have we done for him? First-rate publicity: The Staunch Defender of the Little Man, and a stick for an ambitious man to beat the Government with. Lucky for him.
ARTHUR: Lucky for us, too.
CATHERINE: Granted, yes, but don’t fool yourself. He is an avaricious, a conniving, an unfeeling man. We’ve bought his services for the moment … we’ve bought him, like a cheap …
VIOLET enters announcing.
VIOLET: Sir Robert Morton …
Pause.
SIR ROBERT enters.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: Good evening.
CATHERINE: (Choking) Good evening.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: Something gone down the wrong way?
CATHERINE: Yes.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: May I assist?
He pats her on the back.
CATHERINE: Most kind.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: (To ARTHUR) Good evening, sir. I thought I would call and give you an account of the day’s proceedings, but perhaps your daughter has forestalled me.
ARTHUR: It was very good of you to call, sir. (To CATHERINE) Will you entertain Sir Robert for a moment …?
CATHERINE: Did you know I was in the gallery?
SIR ROBERT MORTON: With such a charming hat, how could I have missed you?
As ARTHUR starts to rearrange his attire, CATHERINE leads SIR
ROBERT into the study.
50. INT. WINSLOW STUDY/HALLWAY. NIGHT.
SIR ROBERT, standing in the “war room” area, picks up several pamphlets on the Winslow case, pro and con.
Camera pans them, as INS., and tilts to scan notes tacked to the bookcase.
ANGLE. ON CATHERINE AND SIR ROBERT.
CATHERINE: Will you betray a technical secret, Sir Robert? What happened in the first examination to make you so sure of his innocence?
SIR ROBERT MORTON: Three things. First of all, he made far too many damaging admissions. A guilty person would have been much more careful and on his guard. Secondly, I laid him a trap; and thirdly, left him a loophole. Anyone who was guilty would have fallen into the one and darted through the other. He did neither.
CATHERINE: The trap was to ask him suddenly what time Elliot put the postal order in his locker, wasn’t it?
SIR ROBERT MORTON: Yes.
CATHERINE: And the loophole?
SIR ROBERT MORTON: I then suggested to him that he had stolen the postal order for a joke—which, had he been guilty, he would surely have admitted to as being the lesser of two evils.
CATHERINE: I see. It was very cleverly thought out.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: Thank you.
CATHERINE: (Pause) And what of the twenty-five minutes?
Pause.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: The twenty-five minutes.
CATHERINE: Ronnie went back to the locker room, and there were twenty-five minutes there which he could not account for. What was he doing?
Pause.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: But I thought you should know.
CATHERINE: Why on earth me?
SIR ROBERT MORTON: It is a crime you indulge in. (He leans closer.)
ANGLE, TIGHT TWO SHOT AS SIR ROBERT DEMIWHISPERS TO HER.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: (Cont’d.) He was smoking a cigarette.
ANGLE. ON ARTHUR AS HE ENTERS.
CATHERINE and SIR ROBERT move apart.
ARTHUR: May we offer you some refreshment, Sir Robert? A whiskey and soda?
SIR ROBERT MORTON: A whiskey, thank you.
CATHERINE goes out into the hall to look for VIOLET.
ARTHUR: My daughter has told me of your demonstration during the First Lord’s speech. She described it as—magnificent.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: Did she? That was good of her. It’s a very old trick, you know. I’ve done it many times in the Courts. It’s nearly always surprisingly effective—
CATHERINE catches her father’s eye and nods. She starts for the bellpull at the door.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: (Cont’d.) Was the First Lord at all put out by it … did you notice …?
CATHERINE: How could he have failed to be? I wish you could have seen it, Father, it was …
VIOLET enters.
VIOLET: I beg your pardon, sir. I quite walked off and forgot to give you the letter.
CATHERINE: When did this come, Violet?
VIOLET: A few minutes ago, miss.
She gives the letter to CATHERINE and exits.
ARTHUR: Who is it from?
CATHERINE: I shouldn’t bother to read it, if I were you.
ARTHUR looks at her, puzzled, then takes up the letter.
ARTHUR: (To SIR ROBERT) Will you forgive me?
SIR ROBERT MORTON: Of Course.
ARTHUR heads for the study to get his glasses. CATHERINE follows, leading SIR ROBERT with her. ARTHUR opens the letter and begins to read.
51. INT. WINSLOW STUDY/DRAWING ROOM. NIGHT.
CATHERINE watches her father for a moment, then turns to SIR ROBERT.
CATHERINE: Well, what do you think the next step should be?
SIR ROBERT MORTON: I believe that the best plan would be to renew our efforts to force the Director of Public Prosecutions to act.
He, too, has his eye on ARTHUR, sensing something amiss.
CATHERINE: Father—Sir Robert thinks we might get the Director of Public Prosecutions to act—
ARTHUR: What?
SIR ROBERT MORTON: We were discussing how to proceed with the case—
ARTHUR: The case? (He stares, a little blankly, from one to the other. To SIR ROBERT, abruptly) I’m afraid I don’t think, all things considered, that much purpose would be served by going on—
SIR ROBERT and CATHERINE stare at him blankly. CATHERINE goes to him and takes the letter from his lap. She begins to read.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: But that’s absurd. Of course we must go on.
ARTHUR: (Slowly) I have made sacrifices for this case. Some of them I had no right to make, but I made them nonetheless. But there is a limit, and I have reached it. I am sorry, Sir Robert. The Winslow Case is now closed.
ARTHUR exits.
CATHERINE: Perhaps I should explain this letter.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: There is no need.
CATHERINE: (To SIR ROBERT) This letter is from a certain Colonel Watherstone, who is the father of the man I’m engaged to. He writes that our efforts to discredit the Admiralty in the House of Commons today have resulted merely in our making the name of Winslow a nationwide laughingstock.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: I don’t care for his English.
CATHERINE: It’s not very good, is it? He goes on to say that unless my father will give him a firm undertaking to drop this whining and reckless agitation—I suppose he means the case—he will exert every bit of influence he has over his son to prevent him marrying me.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: I see. May I take a cigarette?
CATHERINE: Yes, of course. It’s a vile habit—isn’t it?
SIR ROBERT MORTON: Which of us is perfect. (Pause) That really was a most charming hat, Miss Winslow—
CATHERINE: I’m glad you liked it.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: It seems decidedly wrong to me that a lady of your political persuasion should be allowed to adorn herself with such a very feminine allurement. It really looks so awfully like trying to have the best of both worlds—
CATHERINE: Does it, indeed?
SIR ROBERT MORTON: It does.
CATHERINE: And is that a particularly female trait? I’m not a militant, you know, Sir Robert. I don’t go about shattering glass or pouring acid down pillar boxes.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: (Languidly) I am truly glad to hear it. Both these activities would be highly unsuitable in that hat—(Pause) I have never yet fully grasped what active steps you take to propagate your cause, Miss Winslow.
CATHERINE: (Shortly) I am an organizing secretary at the West London Branch of the Woman’s Suffrage Association.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: Indeed? Is the work hard?
CATHERINE: Very.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: But not, I should imagine, particularly lucrative.
CATHERINE: The work is voluntary and unpaid.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: Dear me! What sacrifices you young ladies seem prepared to make for your convictions. (He walks CATHERINE into the hall. They see ARTHUR seated at a stack of papers in the dining room. To ARTHUR) I’m sorry if I spoke to you, sir, with enthusiasm.
ARTHUR: Not at all.
SIR ROBERT MORTON: Might I request that you delay your decision till you’ve thought on it a while?
ARTHUR: I will give you my answer in a few days.
DISSOLVE TO:
52. EXT. HORSE GUARDS BARRACKS. DAY.
The Guards drilling.
ANGLE.
JOHN WATHERSTONE, in uniform, approaching an iron fence. Beyond the fence we see CATHERINE, holding a large portfolio.
ANGLE.
On CATHERINE, as she comes around the fence to meet JOHN at a sentry box. The SENTRY comes to attention as JOHN salutes him, and CATHERINE and JOHN walk into the Horse Guards’ drilling area.
53. INT. GUARDHOUSE. DAY.
We see drilling through the window.
JOHN: (Announcing the “theme” of the encounter) My father wrote your father a letter.
CATHERINE: Yes, that’s right.
JOHN: You read it?
CATHERINE: Yes. Did you?
JOHN:
He showed it to me. (Pause) Yes. What’s his answer?
CATHERINE: My father …?
JOHN: Yes.
CATHERINE: I, I don’t suppose he’ll send one.
JOHN: He’ll ignore it?
CATHERINE: Isn’t that the best response to blackmail?
JOHN: Yes … it was rather high-handed of the old man …
CATHERINE: High-handed?
JOHN: The trouble is—he’s serious.
CATHERINE: I never thought he wasn’t.
JOHN: If your father keeps on with the case, I’m very much afraid he’ll do as he threatened.
CATHERINE: Forbid the match?
JOHN: That’s right.
CATHERINE: An empty threat, then, isn’t it?
JOHN: (Pause) Well, there’s always the allowance—
CATHERINE: Yes, I see. There’s always the allowance.
JOHN: … and without your settlement … you know I can’t live on my pay, and, with two of us—
CATHERINE: I’ve heard it said that two can live as cheaply as one.
JOHN: Don’t you believe it.
CATHERINE: Yes, I see.
A COLONEL and a CAPTAIN enter the room.
CAPTAIN: The Bureau forwarded the minutes to the Arms Board, and we have a receipted copy of it …
COLONEL: Of the note of the fifteenth …?
CAPTAIN: Yes, sir. (Pause) Mr. Watherstone.
JOHN: Sir. May I present my fiancée, Miss Winslow.
COLONEL: Ah yes, Miss Winslow …
He and CATHERINE exchange looks.
JOHN: Permit me to present my fiancée, Miss Winslow.
COLONEL: Miss Winslow.
COLONEL looks after JOHN and CATHERINE as they exit.
EXT. HORSE GUARDS BARRACKS, A PATHWAY. DAY.
JOHN: … mannerless fellow …
CATHERINE: What do we do now?
ANGLE. EXT. THE ROOM.
JOHN and CATHERINE are walking. Two SOLDIERS salute
JOHN.
JOHN: (Of her briefcase) Are you off to the House of Commons again?
CATHERINE: Ah, yes. It’s hard on you, John. Isn’t it…? Pause.
JOHN takes out a newspaper and shows it to CATHERINE.
JOHN: Fellow thought I’d like to see this. Showed it to me.
ANGLE, INS.
The cartoon of John Bull saying, “Can we get some work done around here?”